Wings
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: It's about doing something that he wants to do, and about getting away from Dad. Dean doesn't deserve to have Sam dragging him down. So Sam will leave.


**Wings**

_Part of my AU where Sam is blinded at 13 and has to deal with it for the rest of his life. This is the beginning of the rest of his life. _

* * *

Sam ran his fingers over the smooth paper one more time. He couldn't read it, but he knew what it said, according to a random woman he'd asked on the street.

_ You have been accepted . . . _

Sam swallowed convulsively, folding up the letter and stuffing it back in his bag for the hundredth time that week.

"Sam, we have sparring!"

He shook himself briefly before standing and grabbing his cane. "Coming!"

In this town, they had found a motel that secluded field behind it. Sam reached it without a problem, setting aside his cane carefully against the back of the motel and shucking off his jacket.

"Alright, man. Let's do this."

Without warning, Dean leaped at him, Sam only realizing it from the rush of air at Dean's jump. Quickly, he dodged to the side and swung his arm in a deliberate attempt to get a hold of Dean. His fingertips brushed Dean's sleeve, but were unable to make enough contact, and Sam snarled in frustration before leaping forward himself.

Dean easily dodged him, sending Sam sprawling, though he quickly turned his fall into a roll and spun around, breathing heavily as he tried to listen for Dean.

"Nice move, man," Dean praised, and for some reason it rubbed Sam the wrong way. Dean could heap all the praise he wanted. It didn't change the fact that Sam was half-useless. A burden.

He swung outward a little too wildly, Dean catching his arm and yanking it behind him in a hold.

"Easy there, little brother." Sam could hear the smirk in Dean's voice, and took a slightly malicious pleasure in elbowing Dean in the stomach. Dean's breath whooshed out in a big 'oof' and Sam spun, taking Dean down.

"What'd I do to you?" Dean growled, striking back and catching the side of Sam's head. Disoriented, Sam fell forward, thus receiving a punch to the gut that forced him to crumple in half and gasp for breath.

Dean immediately stopped his attack, holding Sam up by his shoulders and keeping up a steady litany of curses to accompany Sam's painful sucking breaths and hacking coughs.

It came over him suddenly, and Sam turned over and threw up.

Sam ignored his brother's concerned ramblings, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and straightening, shrugging off Dean's hands. "I'm going inside," he said coldly, only stumbling slightly as he turned to search for his cane.

"Hey, are you getting sick?" Dean, per usual, didn't pay attention to Sam's desire to be alone and hovered, probably just keeping himself from holding Sam's elbow. Which was a good thing, because Sam would've swung it to hit him in the face.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Dean grumbled.

"Leave it, Dean," Sam returned.

"No," he said mulishly. "Not until you stop acting like a brooding teenager."

Sam threw his cane down petulantly and flopped onto the bed, closing his eyelids in a silent refusal to talk. Dean seemed to recognize the gesture.

Sam heard a rustling and felt his heart stop for a moment. He hadn't been careful when he stuffed the letter away, and . . .

"Sam, what's this?"

"What's what?" Sam asked, as innocently as possible.

"College?" Dean choked out. "When were you going to tell me?"

Sam dug his fingers into the mattress. "I don't know."

Dean's voice was tight with emotion. "Why didn't you tell me?"

_ Because I knew you wouldn't want me to go—_ "I just didn't."

"Dad know?"

Sam snorted. "What do you think?"

His brother was frighteningly silent, meaning that Sam couldn't read him at all. He lay still, not moving a muscle.

"I'm going for a walk," Dean finally said, and Sam winced. Dean only went on walks when he really couldn't deal, like on the anniversary of their mom's death or when Sam had a really bad fight with their dad.

But Dean had to be relieved. Sam would finally stop being a burden. Dean had to see that now he was free. It was the right thing to do. Everything would be fine.

* * *

By the time Dean got back to the motel, he had nearly convinced himself that it was a false alarm. Nothing would change. Just like normal, Sam was at the table with Dad, eating dinner. Acting nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. Narrowing his eyes, Dean saw the placidity of their dad and realized that Sam hadn't told him.

"Dean, come eat."

"Yessir." Dean deliberately sat down right next to Sam so that his elbow brushed Sam's, and was rewarded with his brother's flinch. Right at that moment, Dean really wanted to spit out that Sam had applied to college. That he had thought about leaving.

"I have something to do tomorrow," Sam said.

"Fine, just don't forget to get some training in," their Dad replied absently.

"What do you have to do?" Dean asked, getting a slightly vindictive feeling of pleasure when Sam flinched again. There was a pregnant pause, and then Sam spoke.

"Get ready to go."

Their Dad's eyes flicked up at that. "Go where?"

Sam seemed to pull up straighter, and Dean realized that Sam was about to reveal the college letter.

"I've been accepted into college."

Dad, unsurprisingly, snorted. Dean was tempted to follow suite, but he really didn't want Sam mad at him for the next week. "Okay, Sam." It was the same tone he used whenever he caught Sam reading a book in Braille that was just for fun, instead of cleaning the guns or training.

"It starts in a week. It's in California, and I've got a scholarship."

Their Dad's face was heavy with skepticism. "And they know you're blind?"

Sam looked calm, though Dean noticed his hands shaking minutely. "Yes. They are one of the more friendly schools for the handicapped."

"You're serious about this."

Dean waited for Sam to back down. It was just a stupid infatuation, probably just to prove he was smart.

"Yeah. I'm leaving in a couple days."

Dean froze at the turn of events. During his walk to cool down, he had figured that Sam was just playing around, Dad would laugh it off and maybe act a little impressed at Sam being smart enough to get into college, and things would go on as normal. That wasn't what was happening.

"No, you're not." Their Dad's voice was a growl.

"I am going." Sam's fingers weren't trembling anymore.

"Uh huh. And how are you going to get around? Stay safe? Function?" Dad fired the questions like bullets. Sam, of course, just dodged.

"I'll manage."

"Sure you will. So how about last week, when you got lost on a walk into town and Dean had to find you?"

"Fluke," Sam returned.

"Or when you missed the shot on the last hunt, despite the noise the beserker was making?

"I won't be hunting."

"You're not leaving."

Sam suddenly stood, blank eyes unnervingly aimed towards their Dad's face. "You can't stop me."

"All I have to do is take away your cane." The condescension was dripping from Dad's voice.

Dean's heart stopped as Sam picked up his cane, his backpack, and his guitar case. Somehow, his own tongue wasn't working. "I'm not staying with you. I'm not a child anymore. And I don't need your blame and your anger."

"You walk out that door, you better stay gone," their Dad threatened, and Dean sucked in a breath. He saw Sam's shoulders slump minutely.

But his baby brother didn't say another word, just straightened his backpack and left.

* * *

Sam was five seconds away from fainting. Fainting was a girly thing to do, though. Passing out. Yeah, that.

He had just left. Left his home, everything he knew. Sam choked on an unexpected sob as he felt his way down the street. He couldn't stop, though. If he stopped, he might go back and beg for forgiveness.

The rumble of the Impala was a shock, and Sam hurried along. Maybe they had come to stop him. Maybe John was going to lock Sam away so that he couldn't leave.

Despite his frantic attempt to escape, the growl of the engine grew louder and louder until the squeal of wheels and rush of air had Sam skidding to a stop so he wasn't run over.

He turned on his heels to escape, but Dean's voice stopped him.

"Sammy! Wait!"

Slowly, Sam turned.

Dean reached him. "Sam, are you—are you really doing this?"

"Yes."

Sam could practically see Dean's frustration. "Sam, you can't leave. It's not safe, man! You could get hurt, and if I'm not with you—"

"I'll be fine," Sam responded stiffly. "You don't have to worry about me."

Dean's pained laugh shook Sam a little more. "Yeah. That's going to happen."

Sam couldn't let Dean convince him to stay. He had told himself to be strong, and he would be. He would stop being a burden. Stop being a heavy weight, dragging Dean down.

"I'm going, Dean. And I'd like to see you stop me," he challenged.

"Yeah, cuz you can't see," Dean shot back. It was a mockery of his usual teasing about Sam's blindness, and Sam flinched.

"Goodbye, Dean," he said coldly, and turned in the direction of the main town. He had to figure out where the bus station was.

"Sammy." Dean's voice broke a little at the end, and despite himself, Sam halted.

"Just . . . let me drive you to the bus station?" Dean sounded unsure, which was completely out of character.

"You won't just kidnap me?" Sam asked suspiciously.

Dean, for once, was without humor. "No."

Sam chewed on his lip, but entered the Impala without further argument. The drive was short, but long enough for him to say goodbye to the car that had been his home for eighteen years. Dean was silent.

The Impala slid to a stop and Sam exited quickly, striking out until he found the curb and got to the sidewalk. The sounds of buses leaving and people hanging around was an annoying buzz until Sam sorted them out and figured out where the counter was by the sounds of papers and bored employee voices.

"Here." Dean's voice startled him. He had thought his brother had left, or was just sitting in the car watching him. "I'll get your ticket."

Sam was about to protest, but Dean was already gone.

Dean returned. "Bus leaves in an hour."

Sam accepted the tickets without comment.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

He nodded shortly.

"And you'll . . . you've got everything?"

Once more, he nodded. He had to keep himself detached. No need to draw out a goodbye that would leave Dean hating him even more than he already did.

To his surprise, Dean suddenly pulled him into a hug that had Sam's lanky frame bent over and his face mashed into Dean's shoulder. Sam remained stiff for a total of five seconds before melting into Dean's arms.

"Sam, you stay safe, you hear me?" Dean's voice was low and intense. Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, Dean. You too."

"Alright, college boy." Dean squeezed him once more before releasing Sam.

"Bye, Dean," Sam murmured. He heard Dean's throat work once but his brother didn't say anything, just clasped his shoulder once more before leaving.

Sam waited two minutes, when he was positive Dean was gone, before completely breaking down. He wanted this. He did. He wanted to be independent and strong and leave.

Somehow though, his victory felt rather hollow.

* * *

**A/N:** angst angst angst I love it. Fall break's over, so back to the grindstone. Unfortunately didn't get much fic writing done, and probably won't this week until the weekend. Here's to the weekend then, folks.

BTW I am officially not watching the new season because I am just way too tired with the show's writing. I require two things from my shows: good characters and good writing. Obviously good characters are created by good writing, and that was decent enough in the beginning to create the Sam and Dean I love, but it has deteriorated so much that the only thing holding up the characters are the actors. I can't do it anymore. So unless I hear spectacular things about the new season, I'm just not putting myself through the pain. I've got SHIELD, Elementary, and Sleepy Hollow. So I'm good.

But man, if I could write the show, UGH.


End file.
